


To Endure

by AthenaDear



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, I am not sorry, I should have been working today, Instead I wrote this, Major character death has been added but it's not anyone that major, Not yet anyway I'm still planning this in my head!, Spoilers up to a certain point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaDear/pseuds/AthenaDear
Summary: “You fear what will happen to those around you should you lean on them.” Eivor turned to her with a fearful expression. “To walk alone, to shoulder the duties of the many is a noble role, but one you cannot maintain. Even the High-One could not bear his burdens alone.”
Relationships: Eivor/Randvi (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77





	To Endure

To endure

“… _Did you run away, did you run away I don’t need to know..._

_… but if you ran away, if you ran away, come back home. Just come home….”_

**“I see you Eivor. I know what you are.”** The words spoken in anger reverberated through Eivor’s mind as she glared at the heaped burial mound in front of her. She had ignored those words spoken with growing disdain for months, choosing to focus on the dangers in front of her rather than his disgruntled voice. She wished now that she had paid more attention. If she had acknowledged his feelings instead of brushing them aside, maybe this sorry affair could have been avoided. Maybe he would be sat beside her instead of lying in the cold, damp ground.

“It should not have come to this.” She muttered as the rain continued to lash her exhausted body, droplets of water running down her face to soak the battered fabric covering her shoulders and neck.

Dag had been steadfast in his convictions; believing with absolute certainty that he acted for Sigurd, that everything he did was for the betterment of the clan even when his actions caused more harm than good. Eivor had admired that element of his character, still admired it, despite what had happened hours before.

A flash of lightning overhead thrust Eivor’s thoughts back into the circle that had been hastily drawn, her muscles tensing as she recalled how Dag had lunged at her like a wild animal, his axe swinging in wide arches as he attacked again and again, only pausing when Eivor countered with a well-placed strike. His eyes, dark and foreboding, had tracked her movements as she tried to distance herself from him until he charged with the rage of Helheim behind him, his roars of outrage echoing through the settlement as she had dodged to the left, sending him crashing to the earth which would soon embrace him. The roars of approval from her clan had been deafening yet one voice had risen above the spear din, pleading with them both to stop. She had turned to Randvi who wore a horrified expression, silently begging Eivor to drop her weapon and end this feud before it was too late.

It was during this brief, silent exchange that Dag had managed to land a staggering blow which had sent Eivor stumbling backwards with a pained gasp on her lips. He had jeered as she had struggled to catch her breath, loudly proclaimed that the Wolf-Kissed was weak, that he would end her suffering with a single blow, when she had pounced. The blade gifted to her by Hytham and Basim so long ago cut through the weathered leather and into the tender flesh of his chest with a speed which had surprised her and she had felt him stagger as her weight collided with his. They had both tumbled to the ground as a stunned hush settled over the clan - no one had truly believed that Eivor would land the killing blow despite knowing that death was the only outcome. No cheers had rung out after that.

“Why did you not come to me Dag…. why did I not listen….” Her voice was drowned out by the sound of thunder and she wondered whether the gods were outraged at the events taking place below.

_‘Let them rage…let them feel a fraction of the anger I feel.’_

The thunder faded as quickly as it had been born from Thor’s hammer and she was once again left with her own thoughts. She tugged the sodden material tighter around her shoulders and stared into the distance, remembering how she had pleaded with those present to hear her words, to believe that she was doing everything she could to return their Jarl to them but she had seen the doubt in their eyes.

She did not begrudge them for doubting her but that did not lessen the sting of their silent judgement. Nor did it hurt any less when they turned away, leaving her alone with the body of her oldest friend.

“I will find Sigurd and he will know that you defended him to the end.” Summoning what little strength she had, Eivor rose from the fallen tree she had collapsed onto and with a final glance at the burial mound, turned to face the settlement with a sense of unease. Despite the overwhelming desire to crawl into her bed, she could not return to the Longhouse, not yet; it’s inviting warmth now seemed lost to her. Instead, she walked towards the forest bordering their borough, breathing in the smell of rain as she walked past Valka’s hut and the stables before rounding the back of the Longhouse, coming to a stop as her eyes landed on the blood-stained earth. She stared at the ground for several moments before storming past.

“He forced my hand…he accused me of breaking my oath.” Approaching the water, she kicked an upturned wooden crate out of frustration before easing herself down onto the dock. She stared down at the calm water as she contemplated her next move, half concocted plans swimming in her mind's eyes only to be replaced with images of Dag’s lifeless gaze staring up at her. So consumed with plans and thoughts of what she had lost she failed to notice a presence approaching her.

“The rain has dispersed, sweeping away the past to reveal the path forward.”

“Please Valka.” Eivor muttered as she glanced up at the Seer. “No riddles. Not tonight.”

“Very well.” Valka inspected the dock with a scrutinising eye before sitting beside the woman. She turned to stare at Eivor who continued gazing into the water until the silence became overbearing and the blonde looked up with hesitant eyes.

“I…” The Seer raised her hand and Eivor obediently remained silent.

“There is no need to speak. Words spoken tonight will be tainted by tragedy, regret–"

Eivor scoffed, refusing to acknowledge the stern look Valka sent her. The Seer did not appreciate being interrupted but knew better than to chastise the younger woman, especially when her actions had been called into question by one who should have respected them. Instead, she remained silent, content to let Eivor work through her emotions until she was ready.

“There is a path before me Valka, but I do not think I can walk it.” To hear so strong a person speak with such uncertainty worried Valka; despite every catastrophe, every set back she had faced, Eivor’s power came from her ability to persevere.

“Describe it for me.”

“Dark. The terrain is rough, uneven and the path so narrow it can only be walked by one.”

Valka considered the picture Eivor painted for a few moments before answering.

“You fear what will happen to those around you should you lean on them.” Eivor turned to her with a fearful expression. “To walk alone, to shoulder the duties of the many is a noble role, but one you cannot maintain. Even the High-One could not bear his burdens alone.”

Mention of Odin had Eivor’s mind racing back to the visions which had plagued her for years and she ran a hand through her hair, her fingers catching on tangled knots and sending sharp bursts of pain through her scalp.

“The cost of disrespect.” She muttered, remembering how Odin had appeared before her, looking down at Dag with damning judgement as he condemned him. Valka’s eyes narrowed in intrigue before Eivor abruptly stood, her hands resting on the hilt of her axe as the first ray of dawn split the sky.

“I will find Sigurd Valka. I will bring him home to us.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

The Seer took the arm offered to her by Eivor and stood, brushing her hands across the fabric of her dress before walking away, leaving Eivor to think on all she had said.

The blonde drengr watched her go before turning again to face the new dawn, a hesitant smile on her lips as she watched the sky lighten.

_‘Sol’s chariot brings a new day.’_

As much as she wished to stay here for a few moments longer she knew she would need to prepare for the coming trials and so with a final glance at the sky turned towards the Longhouse, her stride measured as she approached the imposing building.

The candles which usually bathed the wooden hall in a gently light had long since burnt out and she resisted the urge to stick her arms out in front of her as she navigated through the darkened hall, trying to avoid colliding with the benches and tables. A soft whine ahead had her eyes searching the darkness for the familiar outline of Mouse and she breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted him curled up on her bed.

“Hej my boy.” She whispered as she slipped into her quarters. Grabbing a piece of flint from her desk, she struck the rock several times until a spark caught the wick of a candle. The flame found purchase and spluttered a few times before filling the room with a soft light.

“New letters.” She remarked as she inched closer to the desk. “They must have arrived before I…I…” Shaking her head to banish the intrusive thoughts, she unclipped the metal lid of the letterbox and retrieved the two rolls of parchment. Grabbing the candle she moved towards the bed and perched on the edge, a sigh of relief leaving her lips as she settled against the plush fabric. She un-folded the first roll of parchment and immediately sat up as she recognised the handwriting.

‘ _Eivor,_

_I have arrived in Suthesexe and so it seems have the Order’s new recruits - they pour from Portcestres’ walls like blood from an open wound. We will need an army to breach its gates._

_I will send word when I know more – have faith, my friend, we will not fail again._

_Basim’_

“Portcester.” The name tasted like ash on her tongue and she exploded from the bed, her body thrumming with a desire to move, to do _something_. She paced the length of the room, casting glances at the door to make sure she remained alone until she sat heavily on the bed once more. To storm the castle alone would be a foolish decision - one that would lead to her feasting in Odin’s hall before her time. She had friends that she could call on but would it be enough?

Mouse whined once more, causing Eivor to loosen her grip on the unopened letter still clenched in her hand. She ripped it open and smiled at the name scribbled at the bottom.

‘ _Eivor,_

_I hope this letter finds you ~~in a better state than it left here~~ well._

_An uprising has risen in Rued’s name and I am ~~unable~~ unequipped to deal with their ferocity. Their numbers grow every day and threaten to undo the fragile peace we have worked so hard to build._

_If you are able to help, I swear you will find an even greater friend in East Anglia._

_Yours,_

_King Oswald – First of his name._

Eivor couldn’t help but smile at the amount of crossed through words and ink smudges – Oswald may be a good king but he was terrible with written communication. Despite the poor penmanship, his letter presented an opportunity; if she could resolve this rebellion it would guarantee continued peace for the region and surrounding areas and possibly afford her a larger army; something she sorely needed.

The sound of wooden logs being added to a fire caught her attention and she edged towards the entryway of her quarters, watching as Randvi coaxed the fire from a hesitant spark to a roaring flame. The urge to step out from the shadows, to beg the other woman’s forgiveness for not walking away last night threatened to overwhelm her until the moment was broken by the sound of rushing footsteps. She lunged backwards as Rowan and Holger stormed into the hall with faces of thunder, eyes searching before landing on Randvi.

“Where is Eivor?”

Randvi sighed and resumed tending to the fire. “I have not seen her this morning. Why do you ask?”

“I demand compensation from this…this _oaf.”_

 _“_ Oaf?! I have done nothing to earn this title!”

“You stole my materials you –"

“Enough!” The two men blanched at the sharp tone of the red-haired woman who turned to them with a quiet rage behind her blue eyes.

“Dag is dead – your complaints will not be heard today. Return to your homes, now!” The two quickly retreated with shameful expressions, leaving Randvi alone with her thoughts. Her anger dissipated as quickly as it had flared up, leaving behind a deep exhaustion she felt in her bones. She had not slept - how could she? To witness the death of one of their own had been a painful experience but the guilt and overwhelming relief that it had been Dag, not Eivor laid to rest had tormented her all night. Shooting a longing glance at Eivor’s door she reluctantly withdrew from the hall altogether, wondering whether she should try and find the blonde or leave her be.

Eivor listened as Randvi's footsteps grew quieter until only silence remained and she leaned against the wooden frame as tears welled up in her eyes. Had she ruined the relationship she had denied herself but craved nonetheless by defending herself against Dags' attacks? By choosing honour over humiliation?

_‘The cost of disrespect should not be this high.’_

She knew she would find no peace here waiting for Basim to write. Still gripping the letter received from the young King she took a deep breath and left her quarters. Approaching the Alliance map she had spent so many nights studying, she pulled the dagger from her waist and placed the letter over the region denoting ‘East Anglia’ on the map, stabbing both pieces of parchment with a single blow.

A grim smile settled on her lips; she may not be able to return Sigurd to them but by her next actions she would be one step closer.

‘ _I should speak with Fennr, it seems his duties as steward are not done.”_

Leaving the Longhouse with a renewed sense of purpose, she prayed that Randvi would understand her decision to leave and forgive her for doing so.


End file.
